


that one time at the safe house

by FettsOnTop (GTFF)



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Armor Kink, F/F, F/M, Feelings, Group Sex, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, M/M, Multi, Mutual Pining, Oral Sex, Teasing, The Author Regrets Nothing, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-15
Updated: 2020-05-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:40:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24206050
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTFF/pseuds/FettsOnTop
Summary: The Alternate Smut Ending to "A princess, a deserter, a mandalorian and a child walk into a cantina." Din and Boba switch armor and Din struggles with his feelings for Cara. Oh, and they all have sex.
Relationships: Boba Fett/Leia Organa, Boba Fett/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Cara Dune/Boba Fett, Cara Dune/Leia Organa, Cara Dune/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Leia Organa/The Mandalorian
Comments: 18
Kudos: 131





	that one time at the safe house

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [A princess, a deserter, a mandalorian and a child walk into a cantina](https://archiveofourown.org/works/23667922) by [FettsOnTop (GTFF)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GTFF/pseuds/FettsOnTop). 



“This is it,” Leia Organa announces. “Make yourselves at home.”

As promised, the safe house is not fancy. A few windowless rooms piled high with supplies for Republic operatives. 

“The little one is tired,” Cara observes. The child’s small head is listing against Din’s arms, eyes half closed. 

“There’s a cot in there.” Leia gestures, and Din carries the child off to a small back room. The princess has obviously been staying there, her clothing is slung over bags and hairpins litter the floor. As soon as the little one is tucked in, Din gathers them up. He can never be sure what the child will try to eat. 

He shuts the door behind him and returns to the main room. They’re all standing around waiting for him. Cara. The princess. Boba Fett. No one is talking. 

Leia finally clears her throat. “There’s a refresher in there, if you two want to-” she gestures “switch your stuff.”

Din presses the door panel she indicates and enters the small room. “Can the lights be shut off?”

“No, sorry. Standard autolights. There’s a storage room over here. It’s a little full at the moment…” Din ducks out of the ‘fresher as she opens the door. A little full is an understatement. “But it’s the only room without lights.” 

“The storage room will be fine. Thank you.” He removes his rifle from his back and hands it to Cara, followed by his blaster. 

Fett takes his cue, turning his weapons over to Leia. “Not enough space in there for jetpacks,” he notes. 

“We can sync them later.” Switching armor will have to be done in the right order, not just to prevent unmasking but to keep the systems running cooperatively. 

The storage room is even more crowded than it looks. He and Fett are nearly toe-to-toe between stacked crates and sacks of rations. “What is all this for?” He asks the princess. 

“Bartering, mostly.” 

“Everybody okay?” Cara asks, her hand on the door panel.

“Yes.” 

The door shuts, plunging the small space into complete darkness. His night vision clicks on, and in the quiet he can hear a corresponding hum from Fett’s helmet.

“How do you want to do this?”

“Helmets first.”

Fett lifts his hands to his helmet. “Count of three?”

“One. Two.” His heart is pounding. He’s taking a chance here, counting on Cara’s assessment of Fett’s character. “Three.”

The shelter of the night vision vanishes, leaving Din blinking in the dark. He hears Fett take a breath, unfiltered, and relief washes over him. 

“Here.” Fett’s helmet bumps into his stomach, and he fumbles to grasp the edge as he passes his own helmet over it. 

The weight is different. The targeting scope gives it an uneven balance. 

“Smooth,” Fett comments. “You never painted it?”

“No.” Din sets the helmet down on a stack of crates to his left. “I don’t have house colors.”

“Now what? Full strip down?”

“Yes.” He lifts off his bandolier and starts with his armored gauntlets. His elbow catches something and he hears Fett’s short breath and the scuff of his boots. “Sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.” 

His heart is still pounding. Maybe his brain has rewired itself to think of all contact as leading to combat.There’s a clicking noise as Fett removes his own gauntlets, a faint slap of the lines that normally connect to his jetpack. Din removed that one when they were holding Fett prisoner in the cantina. Heavy tech. Like his jetpack, it belongs to a different set of armor.

The sound of the bounty hunter breathing drops lower as he sets his gauntlets on the floor, and when he straightens his shoulder brushes against Din’s thigh. Sweat prickles along the back of Din’s neck, the stuffy little room is getting warm for their combined body heat. 

Suddenly it’s too quiet. He can’t even hear Fett breathing.

He reaches out, and his hand smacks against the bounty hunter’s chestplate. His neck would be the closest strike zone. 

Something metal and sharp scrapes against his left thigh plate. “You stopped,” Fett says, a question and statement. His breath is warm on Din’s cheek and there’s almost certainly a knife somewhere near his groin. 

“I’m trying to figure out how to take off my chest plates without headbutting you.”

“Warn me. I’ll duck.”

Din removes his hand. He leans back as much as he can to remove his cape and pauldrons, but then he needs a place to put them. He twists, and his hip bumps Fett, who curses as he fumbles some item in the dark. 

This is getting ridiculous. “Duck,” he says, pulling at the ties of his combat vest. It’s an awkward dance. The snapping and clacking of plates is eventually replaced by more muffled sounds as they get down to their bodysuits. 

Their clothing is made to be worn with their armor. Exchanging it is necessary, but it’s still uncomfortable. The heat radiating from the other man’s body is distracting. Fett bends to pick up his suit and his hair brushes against Din’s naked arm. He has hair. Of course he does. He finds a crate in the dark and braces his foot against it to remove his shin guard. 

Cara found him attractive. She must have, to do whatever it is they did. 

“You’re slow,” Fett comments. “Want some help?”

His tone is even. Neutral. Din can’t read the intention of it. 

“No. Thank you.”

Finally he’s down to his shorts and the exchange begins. They search the dark for their belongings and hand them off with a word or two of explanation. “Cuirass,” “belt,” “Watch the seal on that one, it sticks.”

Din manages well enough until he reaches the one piece of armor he’s never worn. He brings the strap up between his legs and presses the curved piece awkwardly to his groin. “How does this-”

“It seals on the top, but there’s a quick release on the bottom for when you need to piss.” Fett’s fingers catch on his belt and then press in at his abdomen, revealing the seam where the codpiece attaches. “Smooth it out before you attach the bottom seal. Bunches up otherwise.” He tugs on the suit in illustration. 

“You wear this...all the time?”

“You’ll appreciate it the first time someone tries to kick you in the nuts. And women like it, but I try not to get an erection while you’re wearing it. It’s not comfortable.” His hand retreats as far as Din’s hip, tucking the top edge of the codpiece beneath the belt. “Maybe that’s not a problem for you.”

Din swallows, and the sound is much louder than he anticipated. “I’m not as chaste as Cara thinks I am.” 

“But you let her think that.”

He locates one of his thigh plates and pushes it into Fett’s hands, forcing some space between them. “I value her friendship. And I’ve...made some bad calls in the past.”

“ _Fek_. Where are the seals for these?”

“Here.” There’s no way to get around feeling up the other man’s thigh. He’s never put them on at this angle before, and never in the dark. He kneels awkwardly in the cramped space and finally locates the seam. 

“I know about bad calls,” Fett says. “Some you get over. Some you never will.” His fingers collide with Din’s as he presses the plate into place. “If Cara Dune wants your ass, you should let her have it.”

“Like you did?”

“We didn’t have time for that.”

Din hands him the other thigh plate without comment. People try to shock him. He knows better than to take the bait. The more novel sensation is to be this close to his armor, to have it in front of him, filled with another person’s presence and scent. There's something strangely intimate about it.

Or maybe it’s the fact that he’s still on his knees, his face likely centimeters from Fett’s unarmored crotch. It stirs something in him, and he can almost imagine the bounty hunter’s hands in his hair. It’s not forbidden, if Fett is willing and secrecy is maintained. Like this, in the dark, he could have _something_. 

But he’d thought the same about Xi’an, once. 

Din drags himself up. Everything about Fett’s armor feels off-balance. “Women like these too,” he says. “The thigh plates. They like to sit on them.”

“Good to know.”

Their work continues, moving cautiously around one another. Din is ready first, helmet in his hands. “Count of three?” He says when Fett is caught up. 

“One. Two. Three.”

Sight returns, even though his eyes immediately unfocus. The HUD display is completely different from his own, and the systems are all waiting for cues. Fett talks him through it, patient and concise, and then it’s Din’s turn to explain what he should and shouldn’t see. 

He’s thankful he won’t have to do this for long. Just long enough to get his child offworld. 

Fett opens the door and it’s a relief to leave the tiny room. It’s a relief until he sees Cara, perched on a few sacks of grain with the princess straddling her lap. Both women are fully clothed, but their flushed faces and heaving chests make the interruption obvious. As do Cara’s gloves on the floor at her feet.

It was obvious at the cantina that Cara and the princess had a past connection, but seeing it is a much sharper realization. Din expects Fett to say something. After all, he has a history with both women. But the bounty hunter says nothing.

And Din has nothing he _can_ say. Wasn’t he just contemplating taking whatever he could get?

Cara doesn’t seem pleased by their appearance. “That’s just _weird_.”

“It’s all wrong,” Leia says, rising from Cara’s lap. She approaches Din, circling him. “You have to walk like him. Shoulders back. Spine straight. Like you learned to walk by watching military parades.”

Fett’s head turns, sharp enough to suggest she hit something close to the truth. Cara is standing in front of him now, looking him over from helmet to boots. “Arms at your sides,” she tells him. “Loosen up. Work those hip plates when you walk.”

“No one will notice,” Fett returns curtly. “People don’t look past the helmet.”

“Obviously that’s not true.” Leia folds her arms over her chest and looks over at Cara. “You’d know it right away, wouldn’t you?”

“I think so.” Cara frowns, studying them. “Try it, Fett. Walk up to me and say something like him.”

The bounty hunter turns and walks six paces away before turning around. He follows Cara’s instructions, adjusting his posture and stride but it looks stiff, even to Din. “I got your comm,” he says to Cara, speaking slower and enunciating carefully. “What do you have for me?”

“Mm.” She’s unimpressed. “It’s too different.”

“Sometimes different is good.” Fett touches two gloved fingers to Cara’s chin. Din stiffens. The bounty hunter is all but taunting him now. “Take a closer look,” Fett offers and Cara’s face breaks into a grin. 

She wraps her hand around his belt, Din’s belt, and hauls him in. “How’s that,” she murmurs, her lips centimeters from Din’s helmet. “Close enough for you?”

As if it’s not strange enough to see his armor animated by another, watching Cara press her body against Fett’s produces a strange mixture of emotions. They’ve been close, especially in the heat of battle, but she’s never touched him like that. 

Fett’s hands in Din’s gloves spread over her lower back. “I like the way you smell right now. I can tell you’ve been with her.”

Din turns to look at the princess, expecting her to be shocked and outraged. Her face is red and her eyes are averted. But she doesn’t seem to be angry.

“We have very similar taste,” Cara agrees, running her fingers up Fett’s chest. Her fingertips graze the underside of his chin beneath the helmet’s rim and Din’s mouth is suddenly dry. It shouldn’t matter. He shouldn’t care. 

“Assholes,” Leia Organa mutters beside him. “I really wish I wasn’t so attracted to them.”

“I’m not an asshole,” Din tells her. “I’m just dressed like one.”

She favors him with a bemused smile. “That’s the truth, isn’t it? There’s something about this armor…” Her fingers brush one scarred shoulder plate. “It’s not noble or impressive like yours. It’s a warning.”

Fett’s head turns, but he says nothing. Cara’s dark brows arch and her gaze drops. “Oh, I get it. You like it when she’s mean to you.”

Fett drops his hands from her waist and steps back. “Don’t you?”

“Don’t listen to them,” Leia tells Din, nimble fingers dropping from the shoulder plate and tracing a line down his arm that he can feel, even through the suit. “I’m a very nice person when I’m with nice people.”

“Anyone want a drink?” Cara says abruptly. “Leia found a bottle of...something.”

“I’m curious,” Din says, looking down at Leia through the unfamiliar visor. “How does a princess end up hanging around in a safe houses on a backwater planet like this one?”

“I like to get out of the Core now and then.” 

“Is that how you met Fett?”

“I guess you could say that.” Her smile turns fixed. “During the war I was captured by Jabba the Hutt.” Leia’s hands move up and down the sleeves of her utilitarian jacket. “People like to see a princess brought low. I never know how far they’re going to take it. Fett kept anyone from getting too close. Not for me. For his _employer_.” Her eyes cut over to the bounty hunter. “But I still appreciated it. And then some time after the Battle of Endor I was sent to...well, I shouldn’t say where. Let’s just say a particular planet caught the Alliance’s attention because of their unprecedented success in eradicating members of the Imperial remnant.”

Cara looks over at Fett with a knowing smirk before taking a drink from a half-empty bottle. “How long did it take you to go from working for Imperials to hunting them? Four seconds? Five?”

“A job’s a job.”

“Yes, and some of us have jobs we don’t want. Like being a symbol of victory and hope when the truth is always more complicated.” Leia holds out her hand and Cara passes the bottle to her. “I was angry and Fett was there.” She pauses to take a drink, and when the bottle lowers her eyes are locked on Fett. “He does have a few good qualities, as you know.”

“I only got to see one,” Cara reclaims her seat on the sacks of grain and Leia passes the bottle back to her. 

“I’d like to hear that story.”

“There’s no story. We were bored and started talking dirty.” She looks over at the bounty hunter and tilts her head. “No one actually removed anything, did they? Other than your…” she nods the groin armor that Din is now wearing. “What do you call that?”

“In Basic? Codpiece.” Fett nudges a crate with his knee, making a seat with his back to a larger stack of crates. “There’s a word for it in _Mando’a_ , but I can’t remember it.”

“ _Ven’cabur,”_ Din supplies. “It means ‘protector of the future.’”

“ _Oh_.” Leia laughs and Cara laughs with her. 

It’s the old way. Babies and families. Clans and houses. The Mandalore Din has only heard stories about.

“How did the two of you meet?” Leia asks, gesturing at Din and Cara. She drops cross-legged on the floor between Fett and Cara. “I’d like to hear that story.”

“Take the chair,” Cara says. “Or take my seat.”

“I’m fine. Mando can have the chair.”

It feels rude not to take it now. Din drags it closer to the other three and sits. “I got hired to protect a village from raiders and needed help. Cara went with me.”

“We took down an Imperial walker,” Cara offers with a grin as she takes the bottle back from Leia. “Just us, a few guns and some krill farmers with spears. It was quite a night.”

“Sounds like it.”

“You miss the action,” Cara says to the princess.

“I don’t miss the violence,” Leia corrects her. “Politics is a much slower war. And the outcome is never clear.”

“You can still leave, you know.” Cara offers her the bottle and she takes it. 

“No, I can’t. You know that.”

“Bring your boy out here. We’ll have our own crew.” Cara looks over at Din, and he’s surprised by how appealing he finds the idea. Leia’s son is force-sensitive like his child. They’ll have each other. It would almost be like having a covert again.

“You could stay too,” Cara offers to Fett, nudging his boot with her own. “If she does.”

“She won’t,” Fett says flatly, and Din can see by looking at Leia’s face that he’s right.

“Don’t think it isn’t tempting,” she says to Cara, her voice soft. “But this is a temporary reprieve from my responsibilities. Sooner or later, I’ll have to go back.”

“Then make it later.” Cara leans towards her and cups her cheek. “I’ll stick around a few days.”

“I would love that.” Leia places her own hand over Cara’s. “But I really can’t.”

“Storage closet’s free,” Fett notes in a matter-of-fact way. His head turns toward Din. “You want a handjob?”

“What?”

The bounty hunter leans forward, one arm braced on his knee. “I’m offering to give you a handjob so Cara can get laid, because _fek_ knows she deserves it after hanging around with you. What about that was unclear?”

Din stood. “Cara can do what she wants.”

“But she won’t.” Fett stood as well, facing Din with barely an arms length between them. “Not if you’re moping out here. If we’re all getting some, that’s different.”

“How are you-”

“Oh, you’ll return the favor.” Fett took a step closer, his voice low. “Don’t pretend like you weren’t seconds from sucking my dick in that storage room, _Mando_.”

There’s some movement from the corner as Cara starts to rise, but Leia grabs her arm. “Don’t say anything,” she says in a hushed voice. “If they actually pull them out and start dueling with them I don’t want to miss it.”

“Leave him alone, Fett.” Cara pushes between them. “He won’t-”

“Yes I will.” The words are out of Din’s mouth before he can reconsider them. “I’m not a monk, Cara. Go with Leia.” The bounty hunter has a point. Cara deserves this. And he doubts Fett is actually serious about the handjob, although it might be interesting to call his bluff and find out.

“Really.” Cara doesn’t seem to appreciate the offer. “You’re okay with this.”

“Uh, actually I’m pretty severely claustrophobic,” Leia says, rising to stand beside Cara. “Imperial torture chambers will do that to you. I have an alternate suggestion. What if we all just stayed out here?” She slips her petite body between Din and Cara, her back pressed against the other woman. There’s a playful spark in her dark eyes. “I know how to take that codpiece off with my mouth. Would you like a demonstration?”

Fett goes completely still, his visor fixed on Leia. Cara’s eyes are on Din, her eyebrows arched in a silent question.

“I’m only in if you are,” he says. 

Her head tilts to one side, something unfathomable in her eyes. “Sure. What the hell, right? An opportunity like this doesn’t come along every day.” She leans in to press her mouth to Leia’s temple. “I gotta sit down for this.” 

Leia casts an affectionate look over her shoulder as Cara returns to her seat on the grain sacks. She drops to her knees, wedging them between Din’s boots, and makes a show of clasping her hands behind her back. Cara sighs. “You always were a show-off.”

The princess looks over at Fett, heat and challenge in her eyes. Then she leans forward, pressing her nose into Din’s inner thigh, just below the curved groin plate and he can feel the heat of her mouth through the suit and the faint pressure of her tongue. 

Her teeth tug at the fabric and he has to remind himself to breathe as she moves up. Her pink tongue laps suggestively at the codpiece before slipping around behind it. Fett’s warning about getting hard in armor returns to him, along with the knowledge that it came from very personal experience. She knows enough about the quick release to break the magnaseal with her tongue, but she’s doing it slowly, her mouth leaving damp spots on the fly of the suit.

It’s a relief when the codpiece falls away, dangling from the strap. 

By now his breathing is quick, his erection straining its confines. Leia gives him a triumphant glance up before pressing her open mouth against his shaft. His whole body feels like it’s on fire, but judging by the bright spots on Cara’s cheeks he’s not the only one. She leans forward, and her tongue darts out to wet her lips. 

If he’s in, he’s in. He brushes the backs of his gloved fingers against Leia’s cheek, and she responds to the light caress with a quick look upward and a smile. Din turns his attention to Fett. He hasn’t moved or spoken, but there’s no armor to hide his arousal in Din’s suit. “Can I touch you?” Din asks the other man, trying not to be distracted by the sight of his own helmet turning towards him. 

“Yes.”

He rubs the flat of his hand over the bounty hunter’s crotch, gratified by the way Fett jerks and then leans into his touch. The princess at his feet gives a pleased moan and nuzzles into the crotch of his pants, her tongue hunting for the fly. 

“Dune.” Fett strips off one of Din’s gloves and beckons to Cara. She unbuckles her utility belt as she stands, giving him enough room to get his hand down her pants. Judging by the way she gasps and leans into his arm, he knows what he’s doing. 

“You know him better than I do,” Fett says to her. “How pushy can I get?”

“I’m right here,” Din says, annoyed. “Touching your dick, remember?”

“I’ve never really tried it,” Cara pants, riding the bounty hunter’s fingers with obvious relish. She glances over at Din and it’s the same look she gives him when they arm wrestle. Testing. Teasing. “My guess is, very.”

“Good.” Fett’s free hand catches Din’s, his fingers underneath the edge of the glove in seconds. “Take these off or I’ll do it for you.”

He doesn’t need to be threatened, a polite request would have been honored just as quickly. But he removes the gloves, anticipation thick in the air as Fett pulls his cock out. Din quickly wraps his hand around the shaft before the bounty hunter can make it a command. 

“Too dry,” Fett grunts. “Leia.”

Leia lifts her head from Din’s crotch. “I’m _busy_.”

“Suck on his fingers.”

The princess gives him a look of annoyance, but a second later she’s guiding Din’s hand towards her mouth, and suddenly her tongue is on his naked skin, licking and sucking his fingers with great enthusiasm. 

The bounty hunter seizes his wrist, his grip bruising, and guides it back to his cock. Din starts stroking him immediately, even though the renewed press of Leia’s mouth to the front of his pants makes it extremely hard to concentrate. 

“Stop.” Fett’s clipped command is followed by a change in position. He sits down on the crate he was using before and pulls Cara down with him. “Your Mando claims women like these plates.”

“He’s right.” Cara straddles his leg immediately, bracing her feet as she grinds her crotch against the thigh plate. “Yeah, that’ll do it.” Her lips part and her glazed-over eyes drop to Din’s crotch. “You about ready to share?”

He frees his aching cock and gives it a squeeze as Cara rocks against Fett’s thigh. Her heated gaze turns to Din. “Spit it out.”

“Would you...touch me?”

“I would be fucking delighted.” She spits on her hand and he moves closer. “I would have done this the first day we met,” she says, her voice low and husky as she takes his cock in her hand. “I would have backed you against the wall of that soup place if your kid hadn’t been there.”

“Leia. Come sit.” Fett nods at his other thigh. Instead of straddling it Leia perches gracefully with her ankles crossed, her prim posture at odds with the sure and steady movement of her hand as she strokes him. 

Cara leans over and catches the nape of Leia’s neck and the two women kiss. She doesn’t even so much as pause in stroking Din’s cock but her other hand slips between Leia’s thighs, stroking her through her pants. She whimpers and bucks up into the touch, and Fett pulls at her belt, loosening her pants enough to let Cara slip her fingers inside. “You’ve been such a good little tease,” Cara purrs. “You deserve this.”

The princess moans in response. The only thing keeping Din from coming is his own sense of disbelief. He can’t believe he’s doing this. He can’t believe Cara is doing this with him. The air is ripe with sweat and arousal, he hopes this safehouse has a sonic shower because they’re all going to need one.

“Mando, you’re thinking too much.” Cara squeezes his dick harder and with one final kiss, parts from Leia. She licks the head of his cock and Din momentarily forgets how to speak. Whatever noise he makes, it’s not a recognizable language. She lowers her head and sucks lightly, and he has to focus on something else to avoid spurting immediately into her mouth without warning. 

His eyes drop to where she’s still enthusiastically grinding on the thigh plate. Leia’s hand crosses into sight, grasping Cara’s leg for balance as Fett drags her fully into his lap. 

Her pants are already loose, making it easy for him to wrestle them down over her hips one-handed. He thrusts his cock into the tight space where her thighs are pressed together and Leia arches back against him. His hand slides up under her jacket, the motion pulling her shirt up and exposing her pubic area completely. 

She has stubble down there, as if she shaved it, but not recently. Her thighs and belly are milky white apart from the faded stretch marks on her hips and abdomen. 

“Hey.” Cara rises and gives the side of his helmet a little smack. “I have one of those too, you know.” She’s smirking at him as she pushes her own pants and belt down. 

“I know.” It’s a stupid response, but he has no other words when the perfect curve of her ass and thighs are bared for him. She has a tattoo on her abdomen, a delicate yellow flower just above the dark curls between her legs. 

Leia leans forward, her fingers curling around Cara’s upper belt and pulling her closer. “A carasynthia. It’s lovely, just like you.” She pressed her lips to the mark almost reverently, and Cara cups the back of her head, her teeth pressing down on her lower lip. 

Fett grasps the back of her jacket and pushes her forward into Cara, a command she accepts immediately. Din can hear the wet sound of her tongue between Cara’s thighs as well as the sound of Fett fucking her slick thighs. Cara’s face is as unguarded as he’s ever seen it, heedless with wanton pleasure, and he’s so focused on it he jerks in surprise when Fett wraps his hand around Din’s cock. 

“Your call, Mandalorian. Where do you want to be?”

“Cara-”

Her head lifts, and her eyes lock in on his helmet. “Get behind me,” she pants with a tilt of her head. 

He does as she says, pressing his cock into the soft curve of her ass, his arm around her waist. She hooks one arm up around his neck and leans back against him, squirming as gasping as Leia pleasures her. It’s too much. The sights, the sounds, the feeling of her body against his. Her body jerks against his when she comes, he can feel the vibration of her cry against his arm. 

A warning would have been polite, but instead he comes on the back of her thigh with a ragged groan. 

“Oh _kriff_ ,” Cara half-groans, half-laughs. She turns into his arms, her face buried under the edge of his helmet, and he’s only dimly aware of Fett pulling Leia back and fingering her into climax before coming on her thighs. 

It’s a sticky blur after that, stumbling around one another in post-coital haze. Din doesn’t even have a chance to speak with Cara until after they’ve showered, and Cara is sprawled out on her seat of grain sacks finishing off whatever is left in the bottle. Even then, she’s the first to speak. “Hey Mando,” she says. “That wasn’t bad.”

In spite of himself, Din can feel the smile spread beneath over his face beneath his helmet. They’re alone for now. Fett and Leia are in the shower and Din’s armor and helmet are probably neatly stacked on the ‘fresher floor. There’s a part of Din that envies the bounty hunter, holding and kissing the woman he loves. 

Until she leaves. 

Din doesn’t envy that part. “It doesn’t have to change anything,” he says to Cara. “If you want to pretend it never happened-”

“I really don’t.” She sits up a little. “Why is it so hard for you to believe that someone might like you and want to be with you, whatever that looks like?”

It’s not a question he can answer. Not easily. 

She finishes off the bottle with a final swig and wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. “Fett asked me if he could fuck you when you switch armor back.”

“What did you say?”

“That it was up to you.” She studies him a moment. “I’m not going to pretend like it never happened, but what happens next is pretty much up to you.”

He takes a step towards her, clumsy in his borrowed armor. “I want...I would like to do this again. Just you and me.”

Her eyes light up, and her mouth curls into a smile that’s both bewitching and all her own. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The door to the refresher opens and Leia emerges, freshly scrubbed and dressed in clean clothes. “I don’t have much to offer in the way of food,” she starts apologetically and then stops. “Oh. The baby’s awake.”

Din cocks his head, listening. “How do you know that?”

Her eyes move away, searching for something among the crates. “You didn’t hear that?”

Din looks at Cara, who shakes her head. He moves to the door and opens it. His child is standing on the other side, looking up at him. 

Fett exits the fresher at the same moment, and it hits Din that he’s wearing Fett’s armor and Fett is wearing his and the baby might...react badly. “It’s okay,” he says quickly, trying to reassure his child, but their small arms are already reaching up to him. Asking to be held.

The child knows. The child always knows.

“We should get going.”

“Feed the baby first,” Leia advises. She retrieves a plasticine package of something from a crate and holds it up. “Look. I have soup.”  
  



End file.
